Better than a Photograph
by VanillaHoney
Summary: Percy wants a photo of Annabeth. Percabeth fluff.


This is my first PJO fic... It's pretty cheesey... . Please R&R.

*insert disclaimer here*

* * *

I was too embarrassed to ask her for a photograph.

It was pretty pathetic, but every day after school I would rush to check my email and hope she'd send me one. So I had this genius idea:

If I sent _her_ a photo, it would prompt a response, right? Sort of like a trade. A swap.

Not. That. Easy. I looked at all the pictures my mom had of me on her camera from our trip to Montauk last month on spring break, but they were all horrible. (What was up with my hair in that bonfire photo? Seriously, I look like a sheepdog with about six hundred blow dryers aimed at my neck.) And anyway, who sends people pictures of them a month ago?

"Oh, hey, I just found this picture of me from last month, so here you goooo!"

Yeah, right.

I needed one from, like, right now. But… why would I just send her one? It would have to be an important picture, like when she sent me that one of her in front of the Lincoln Memorial.

Auuughhhhhhhhhh.

_Why _did it have to be so _complicated_?

I sat on my bed until dinner, trying to figure out what to do. I had a number of just wonderful ideas that I discarded:

• Me killing a monster (Okay, how would I even _take _that picture?)

• Me holding the Minotaur horn (SOOO 4 years ago!)

• Me in the ocean (Ughhh… so cliché!)

• Me holding a sign that conveys a _mysterious and shocking message _(Like, "Hello" or something?)

"Percy, honey, it's time for dinner," my mom poked her head into my door.

I bit my lip in thought.

"Okay…"

I must have looked distant or something, because she was instantly concerned.

"Is something bothering you?" she asked me.

I was tempted to spill, but then she'd probably assume I was like in love with Annabeth or something embarrassing and completely and totally untrue like that, maybe, so I kept my mouth shut and told her that no, everything was fine, and what were we having for dinner tonight?

After dinner, I ditched the idea. It was dumb anyway. I would see her in about a month and a half, anyway, so what was the big deal?

But of course my stupid brain kept thinking about her smile and her eyes and her lemon shampoo.

I went to bed early that night after telling my mom I had a horrible, terrible headache, and that I needed to rest. Which wasn't entirely a lie.

In the morning I learned two things: I was really, really, desperate for a picture and also that I had to take action or I would become obsessed. (What? I'm not obsessed now!) I went to Central Park with my camera after deciding it didn't necessarily have to be a special place or whatever. I was decked out in my coolest looking t-shirt and my best black jeans, and tried to look confident and upbeat.

I stuck the camera onto an empty bench and set it on the 10-second time taker so I'd have time to press the button and get in position. The first few times I tried, I crouched down low so the camera wouldn't cut anything off. Unfortunately, I was a little too close to the bench and I ended up with three gorgeous pictures of my crotch.

I couldn't help laughing and imagining what she would say if I sent them to her.

Ha-ha.

Imagine.

Delete.

I backed away from the camera now, and smiled at the lens. This time, my eyes were closed when the camera clicked, and also I was posing very strangely. Reminiscent of a model being bit by a snake. I started doing my crouch-smile-freeze routine over again when someone said my name.

"Percy?"

Oh crap. Crap crap crap.

I jumped up and turned around and she was there, eyebrows raised, gold curls loose.

Then one of those amazing moments happened when my brain was thinking exactly what I was saying.

"Uhhhhhhhh…"

"What are you doing?" Annabeth asked. She smiled quizzically at me with her grey eyes, and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

"…School project," I croaked, snatching my camera and turning it off before she could see the pictures.

She laughed. "Must be one strange project!" she said. "Anyway, I think you owe me a movie evening. Your mom told me you were here."

I heard myself agreeing and asking her what was up, and why on earth was she here, but I couldn't help but think that this was much, much better than a photograph.


End file.
